Later
by Rianan D' Halmsu
Summary: "Do you know how people fall in love? Ne, Karin-chan?" "How the hell am I supposed to know? Some shit-ass hormones start working like crazy, I guess?" HitsuKarin.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! It's another HitsuKarin fic ( I like them a lot—they are so different, yet the same.)! Hope you guys enjoy! and to those awesome people who favorited/ liked/followed 'Marry Me?' are so freaking awesome (like said before) that I am speechless! I mean, your reviews were like… like… beautiful snakes to my eyes(yeah, I love snakes)! **

**Enjoy! **

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The first time they met was when Toshiro was with Hinamori.

He didn't know who she was and didn't particularly care. She was a newcomer, he could tell; he had never seen her before. Not that he remembered each and every person he came in contact with, but, being an overprotective surrogate brother ("Li'l Shiro!" Hinamori would call him lovingly in which case he would retort back by screaming at her) he was aware of all his sister's friends. That, and Hinamori had introduced her to him with that usual happiness present in her voice, stressing that she—Karin—was in the Eleventh Division.

He was mildly surprised when Hinamori had declared such, the reasons for his surprise being overly obvious.

She was too skinny, for one, and definitely not the sort who seemed very fit to be in the _Eleventh Division _of all places. Second, she was a _girl,_ the members of the Eleventh division were _guys_; the fact that that Zaraki-taicho had actually accepted her and taken her under the Eleventh Division's wing left him bewildered.

He let the thought slide, momentarily disturbed when the girl started speaking.

"Momo!" her voice rang out in exasperation, and he couldn't help but wonder how husky and honey like her voice was, "Can you _stop _telling that to _every single _person you meet?"

Momo pouted cutely and said, her friend, Megumi, joining the brunette, "But, _Karin-chan,_" Karin's eyebrow had twitched, he had noted, when Hinamori and Megumi had pouted, "you are the first girl to defeat almost everybody in the Eleventh division, single handedly, I might add, _without _using your Zanpakto, save Yumichika-san, Ikkaku-san and Zaraki-taicho!"

Karin crossed her hand over her chest, defending herself, a scowl on her face, "Of course I did. They started it! And it wasn't the whole division, Momo! Those bastards were trying to grope me!" she shook her head and glared at Hinamori, "Besides, that was two months ago! Stop it now!"

Hitsugaya stared at the trio, not really sure what to do. Hinamori was still pouting and arguing back, with Megumi following Hinamori in her high pitched voice while the raven haired girl retorted and told them to _stop._

Toshiro cleared his throat with a slight cough, and Hinamori and Megumi turned around while Karin gave an exasperated sigh for reasons was not particularly aware of. Maybe it was because she was sure that her explanations and arguments were pretty useless, seeing as to how Hinamori instantly started telling him about Karin and her victories.

"Ah, Shiro-chan!" Hinamori squealed in happiness, and clutched his wrist, "I was just telling you about Karin-chan! You know, she defeated the forth seat—"

Karin came in between Hinamori and Toshiro, pushed Hinamori aside and glared harshly at the brunette. She hissed, "I _told _you not to!"

Hinamori simply giggled, fueling Karin's anger. She hissed again, shook her head, finally realizing that her efforts were futile and turned to Toshiro. She offered him her hand, adding, "Karin Kurosaki."

The fact that she had introduced herself as a _Kurosaki_ did not process in his mind at that moment because he really didn't care, sure that they wouldn't meet again.

Maybe we will, he thought, Momo seems attached to her.

He looked at her hand, raising his eyebrow mutely. He had expected her to bow the way the others did; he was a Captain, after all. And then he recalled that he wasn't wearing his haori, which was probably why she had offered him her hand. He grasped her hand and shook it firmly, minutely, and murmured, "Hitsugaya Toshiro."

"Hitsugaya." She said, and nodded imperceptibly, as if acknowledging him.

She paused and when his peripheral vision met her face, he saw that she was confused. Her brow was wrinkled slightly, as if thinking, trying to recall where she had heard the name before, but later shrugged in indifference and let go of his grasp. She stepped back and Hinamori and Megumi came in between them. Hinamori gave Toshiro an odd look, a hint of a smile present in her delicate features, to which Toshiro simply shrugged, while Megumi busied herself by rapidly talking to Karin.

**.**

.

The second time they met was in a forest.

The term 'met', however, isn't really correct.

He had gone there in search of Matsumoto, who was, _again,_ skipping out on work. Drunk, he figured, and her reiatsu's trail led him here.

"Where the hell is she?" there was annoyance in his voice—the usual, undisturbed annoyance that never left him. Briefly he wondered why the hell was he _looking _for her in the first place, especially since he was damn sure that he wouldn't be able to find her anyway. He sighed when he remembered the reason. Leaving Matsumoto was a simple excuse, he knew, the main reason for _actually _going out was something different entirely.

His heart constricted in pain, a dull throb, not too uncomfortable, but an uncomfortable feeling nonetheless.

Maybe he wasn't supposed to react the way he was reacting—not when there was Hinamori and her love life involved in it. Kira and she had been dating for the past few years, away from everyone else's prying eyes. He just got to know, half an hour back. He never wanted to experience the shock and the aberrant pain which came with it.

Hinamori had excitedly announced that they were going to get married: when, however, he did not know and neither did they. Sometime soon, they had promised, but what exactly did 'soon' stand for, neither were aware. One month, a year? They did not know and Toshiro preferred Hinamori being as unmarried as possible.

He breathed out distractedly and closed his eyes in half suppressed pain.

Hitsugaya never believed in crushes (which was kind of ironic, considering his current situation)—they were, he felt, silly little infatuations which lasted for a couple of months: nothing too deep, really. He believed in love, though; because love was something _strong _and needed. He wouldn't lie by saying that love was stupid—maybe it was, he wasn't really sure, because what he meant by the term 'love' was the feeling one has for family.

Perhaps what he felt for Shinji's lieutenant was the love of a brother to a surrogate sister, he didn't know, or, maybe it was a crush. Probably the latter, he figured; he wasn't really _that _stupid. He clenched his jaw in frustration, anger. Since when had he become so low? What Hinamori felt for _him _was what he had felt for her when he lived in Rukongai. What had changed between them—in _him_?

Hitsugaya was a man—a man, mind; he didn't look like a thirteen year old kid anymore; more like a twenty three year old man—who kept his emotions in check. If something didn't bode well with him, he was the sort who _crushed _the said something into smithereens and allowed the wind to carry it away, far into an unknown and unseen place. He tried to do just that.

It worked to some extent, making him clench his jaws again to _let go._ He breathed in quickly, opened his eyes to momentarily look at his surroundings (dark, definitely; it _was _the night, and trees. Hoards of them.), closed his eyes once more and let his instincts overtake him. Before he knew it, his legs were carrying him somewhere. Where, he did not care, but it was as if his legs were thinking in that odd manner they thought stuff.

Ugh. He was spewing up nonsense about legs thinking.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Suddenly, like an abrupt fall, wind brushed past him, murmuring softly and quietly. It was a pleasant feeling; the mental distress he was going through made him welcome it earnestly. He stood at what he knew was a clearing for some time, and he could sense water nearby. A pond, maybe; he did not want to open his eyes to see; he liked the momentary tranquility which came with closing his eyes.

And, then, he felt a presence. It was a strong, abominable reiatsu. The owner did not even bother masking it.

Che. Novice.

He opened his eyes and his vision met raven.

Instinctively, he stepped back to hide himself behind a few bushes—he didn't know why he did that; he just did. His teal eyes stared impassively at the figure standing near a river.

Surprisingly, all he could think was, _Ah. That was a river._

The figure was sort of familiar, not too familiar, but he remembered seeing her. He could say that the Shinigami was a 'she' by simply staring at her figure and her neck length hair, tied up in a loose ponytail. She was very scrawny; the fact that she was athletic was pretty obvious—most of the Shinigamis _were _athletic. Apart from Soi Fon's Fukutaicho. He never really understood how a stupid man like him could even become a Fukutaicho.

The figure crouched down near the riverbank and, from his angle, seemed to stare at the river. He wasn't really sure what she was doing. She remained in that crouched position for about a minute or so, before getting up suddenly. She unsheathed her sword, which was securely tied around her waist and murmured something—she was too far away from him to hear her clearly.

It took him less than a second to observe the blade.

There was only one word which came to his mind: beauty.

The Zanpakto was _beautiful_, the blade smooth and glossy, reflecting the moonlight. Beautiful, black, swirls and curves adorned the blade, creating a water-like effect. The hilt, he couldn't see; her fingers were curled securely around it. The blade was long, and, as she raised it, the moonlight bounced off it, as if flinging the speck of light away.

She turned around, fluidly, and his teal eyes met deep obsidian ones. She did not see him, he could tell: she couldn't sense him, either, his reiatsu masked with complete ease and efficiency.

And, then, like a flash, he recalled her.

_Karin. Karin_….something.

He was aware that he had a sharp memory and, personally, he was proud that he remembered her name. Even though he did not know what her last name was. Not that it really mattered.

He stared for a few seconds, as she jabbed her Zanpakto away into thin air, her body moving fluidly, practicing her katas, as if dancing to music. It wasn't exactly a sight to be _behold _or anything, so, the next moment, quite bored, he got up and stalked off.

**.**

.

Two days had passed since he saw her in the little clearing; and he wanted to go back to the forest, his 'meeting' with Karin momentarily forgotten. He didn't know why he wanted to go; he just did. The urge to go to the forest overtook his senses, even when he tried to suppress it. It was weird to actually want to _go _out somewhere when piles of paperwork were surrounding him.

His eyes scanned the paper before him, on his desk, and simply stared.

_The candies in the Eleventh Division are not there anymore, Snowball-chan! Give them to me! Oh, and Ukitake-taicho gifted me with a lot of candies, and told me to share it with you! But I did not listen to him and ate everything… Gimme some more candy!_

'_What the fuck—'_

He sighed in defeat and didn't bother looking at the name signed below in _fucking _crayons. Crayons, for heaven's sake!

His eyebrows wrinkled again in distaste, as he crumpled the paper and threw it at a random direction. Later he realized that he'd have to throw it in the dustbin to keep his office clean and not turn it into a garbage-dump-lookalike. Groaning, he stood up, the chair screeching in protest at the sudden movement. He walked a few paces towards the window, looked distastefully at the crumpled sheet, bent down and picked it up. He looked at it, the disdain he felt toward an innocent piece of paper still present.

He turned to his right, walked a few paces forward, and casually chucked the piece of paper in the green plastic dustbin. He stared at the paper for some time, not really sure what to do.

Should he go back and do his work? Or should he go out, preferably towards the direction of the forest, amidst nature? He was standing already…

He thought otherwise, shook his head, and wished that Matsumoto were there to help him with his work.

Correction: _Their _work.

He pried the haori off of him, and hung it lazily in the hook hanger. He craned his neck to get rid of the stiffness. Ruffling his hair, he scowled at the pile of papers, staring mockingly back at him, contemplated whether or not to use Hyorinmaru to make the pile soggy, again thought otherwise, and sat back on the chair.

He let his back hit the backrest of the chair and tipped his head upwards. His view met the lazily whirling fan and the ceiling. The light hurt his eye, but he did not let it bother him.

His thoughts went back to Hinamori.

He did not know what he felt for her. He really didn't and it was confusing as hell. Hinamori was his _sister_, elder to him, too. Two days back, the news of his sister's relationship with the blonde Fukutaicho had disturbed him immensely, but, now….it was disconcerting. That was it. He did not feel the pain anymore. Everything felt natural, as if nothing had changed, and that was that.

A momentary flash caught his eye.

It was a dim flash, almost invisible to anyone else's eyes. But he saw it.

He got up his chair almost immediately, walked up to the window and peered curiously outside. At first, he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary—the trees, the path, the usual darkness—but, after sometime, he saw it again. It was yellow, almost orange.

He did not know what happened to him the next moment. It was as if he was looking for a simple excuse to go out, and this mysterious flash gave him one.

_I went out to see yellow lights. Believable enough. _In his mind's voice there was deep sarcasm, but he tried to ignore it. He pushed open the window, and placed his foot unconsciously on the windowsill. Squeezing out of the open window (he had grown quite a lot in the past nine years)he dropped to the ground, and, without a second thought, ran forward.

His eyes remained unusually glued upwards, towards the top of the thick trees, waiting excitedly for the light to appear again.

It appeared again, this time brighter.

He shunpoed away._  
_**.**

.

Ten minutes later Toshiro found himself in front the bushes and thick trees, staring with a little difficulty, his view mostly disturbed by the trees. If he remembered correctly, wasn't this the place he had been observing the raven haired girl? Maybe it was true, maybe not, but, as he peeked out from the bushes and trees, he definitely knew that the answer wasn't the latter.

This was _exactly _where he had seen her, and he was _exactly _standing where he had stood before.

Huh. Coincidence.

He did not let the thought bother him. He let his whole body emerge out of the thick bushes, till he stood on the clearing, his form partially hidden by the trees. He masked his reiatsu for some unknown reason. His sea green eyes observed the place, once again.

The place wasn't particularly good or anything out of the ordinary; just pretty. The moon was high up in the sky, and the clearing was lustily bathed in the moon's light, its silvery glow weaving through the surrounding. The moonlight reflected in the water, and, from where he stood, the river looked almost silver. The river reflected the stars, creating tiny, millions of unhidden dots. He couldn't see the star's reflections, however, his angle deeming it almost impossible.

Until and unless he had antennae like eyes: which he was sure he didn't have.

Block Mountains flanked the river, almost half a mile due south, and the river flowed lazily in the valley, flowing continuously till it reached an unknown land.

That was it. There wasn't anything special about the place.

Oh, and in the other side of the river, were trees. Hoards of them.

A bright flash, not too bright to hurt his eyes, blinded him momentarily. He suppressed a gasp of surprise, but shut his eyes, and stepped back, almost reflexively. He opened his eyes again, slowly, and this time and did not bother suppressing a gasp.

There was fire. And water. Combined.

This did not make any sense, from his point of view. Toshiro was a man of science; he knew the laws of Physics, despite the fact that Shinigamis broke a few with sufficient ease. Okay, maybe he did not believe in it _that _much, but, if he were a human, he definitely would have. Shinigamis, as mentioned above, broke laws of Physics. Being a Shinigami himself, he knew that some laws of Physics applied even to them.

He knew that water and fire could never combine.

But, what he was seeing currently, stated otherwise.

Her slender arms shot out, and fire emerged from the palm of her hand. She murmured a name under her breath, and eased, like a cat would before resting in the invisible arms of slumber. Her back arched and her hair flowed down, like the calm waves of the sea. There was no smile on her face, just drilled determination. The fire touched the water with ease, and, like a gentle mother, scooped it out of the water.

Her head jerked forward, and a smile replaced her feature, a smile of happiness and childish pride, as she observed her work with a curious eye.

Toshiro was, on the other hand, more than curious. He was intrigued.

And then, slowly, as if one were dragging something heavy, minus the floundering about, she cut off the rope of fire connected to her left palm, and stuck out her right hand's first two fingers. The fire flickered, and she gritted her teeth, as if scolding the flame carrying the water. Her eyes again screwed in determination and slowly, but not too slowly, her two fingers, joined, formed a circle in air.

He watched in awe when the fire too moved, forming a circle, the water spreading as the fire formed a fiery ring of sorts. The water precariously covered the inner surface of the ring, hung there for a few precious second, before falling down with a splash, the fire sizzling out of existence.

The girl stood there for a few seconds, observing the view, before her face split into a huge grin.

"Yosh!" she cheered herself, pumping her fist upwards. At this point, Toshiro felt a needle of respect for her.

What she did was amazing. And that was a huge thing when it came from him.

He watched her attentively, as she jumped and ran about in joy, broke a nearby boulder with a single, unconscious punch, jumped again and cheered herself.

"That was the first time I tried creating a shape, and it worked!" At this point, she was cheering and raving, not in a narcissistic manner, but mainly with pure joy.

After a few minutes, she stopped, her figure slouched in exhaustion. She breathed in deeply, calmly, and murmured, "Wow…"

Her eyes were glued to the sky, for a second or two, before bringing them back down to reality. She shook her head in determination and smirked wildly. Her arm shot out again.

Toshiro gazed at her for a long time, as she performed the seemingly impossible task again. He silently stepped back, and twisted his neck to look behind him. He stared seemingly into nothing for the longest time, before sighing to himself and flopping himself on the ground. He kept Hyorinmaru beside him, and observed her lithe form, practicing.

Maybe he would come to see her again tomorrow.

**.**

.

Lately, Toshiro had been finding his thoughts being occupied by the Kurosaki girl for the longest of times. He never understood why, though. As oblivious as he was to tender feelings, this _particular _feeling annoyed and bothered him to no end. In a way it wasn't exactly 'feelings' or 'feeling' because he never really _felt _anything for her as such. He just thought of her.

It bewildered him.

Hinamori looked up; tearing her eyes away from the book she was reading and turned on her back, her brown hair splayed out messily. She stretched her arms forward, holding the book away from her face, and turned her eyes to stare at her surrogate brother, "Ne, Shiro-chan? Is everything alright?"

Startled out his reverie, his face slipped from his palm almost comically, before he composed himself and replied, "Hai, hai, I'm alright."

Hinamori nodded, and smiled a little smile, before going back to reading the book, turning back on her stomach, the bed soft against her.

"When are you and Kira-fukutaicho getting married?" it was a pure legitimate question, yet it surprised Hinamori. Despite being in a relationship with the Third Squad's fukutaicho for over five years now, she still couldn't help but let a blush creep up her face. What startled her more was the fact that the person to ask her a question about her marriage was Toshiro Hitsugaya of all people.

She smiled, and craned her neck to look at the seated Captain, "We don't know yet."

"Ah," was his impassive reply.

Silence passed.

"Why'd you ask?" Hinamori asked curiously— her brown eyes indicated that.

"Never mind." He drawled distractedly, and looked out the window then back at the clock. 10:30 PM. She'd be there. In fact, she was already there. He could sense her fiery and warm reiatsu, despite being miles away from her.

"Ja, I'm leaving." He got up abruptly, pointed at the clock to indicate the time and how late it was to Hinamori, and waved at the brunette. She pouted and disagreed, as if he leaving impinged her a lot. Which, without a doubt, did.

"Mou, Shiro-chan!" she said unhappily, "Already?"

Toshiro did not smile, but even she could see his lips twitching up silently, "Gomen, Hinamori. I have to go somewhere."

He went back to the forest, this being the ninth time he did so in the past nine days since then.

**.**

.

Two months had passed since he decided to see her.

For two months, every day, _every single day,_ he would come to see her, at her agile and nimble form, as she would play with fire and water; the latter being forced to be her element. She would play with them with mirth and determination and will power, the stubbornness drilled permanently into her system refusing her to give up, even when her muscles, her mind, her heart, everything told her to _stop._

She would never stop, however, and he admired that.

He admired the way she walked—with natural confidence and beguile—the way her eyes would light up whenever she did something which he would term as 'impossible', the way she _never gave up._

She would dance about to a hidden music, ringing unknowingly in his ears, her nimble feet tapping with rhythm and ease, fire and water swirling around her to form beautiful patterns.

She danced confidently, but even he knew that she didn't _mean _to dance. She just did. In an unruly manner—she wasn't particularly graceful.

And then, one day, combining water and fire, she had created a dragon. The dragon had swirled and twirled around her and she had laughed with happiness and mirth, weaving her arms to control the beautiful creature, and she had murmured one name, _"__Jigoku no ryū._"

Hell's Dragon.

He could describe her with only one word.

_Mesmerizing._

**.**

.

"Momo, what does it mean when you think of one person for a long time?"

The Fifth Squad's fukutaicho gasped in withheld surprise, and furiously wheeled around, her brown eyes staring earnestly at her younger brother. Toshiro felt awkward, as Momo's big brown eyes stared at him, confusion and incredulity present.

"What?" she gasped again.

Toshiro repeated his question.

"Who?!" she probably squealed with joy, or maybe she laughed with ecstasy, he wasn't really sure, because the next moment she nearly hugged him. Toshiro did not inch away, but he felt Hinamor's hands circle around his waist.

He blushed awkwardly.

_Damn._

"Uh…Hinamori?"

Hinamori let go of him and did not say anything, the usual, teasing smile playing on her lips. Toshiro did not understand the reason for it.

**.**

.

On the fifteenth of June she didn't come.

He sat there, waiting for her, twiddling idly with the grass, waiting, waiting, _waiting. _Yet, she didn't appear.

She didn't come the next day, either.

And the next.

When he would wake up, he would find himself staring at the morning sky, his view partially hidden by green leaves.

**.**

.

He sat himself on the chair, feeling empty. He didn't quite understand why, but things felt very awkward and surreal, as if he were merely floating, the people, the world, everything, being nothing but a disturbing sea of colors and work. It didn't make any sense.

He knew who was responsible for his state.

_Karin._

Granted, they never really talked. In fact, she didn't even _know _that he watched her every day, as she performed the beautiful ritual with mirth. They did not even _make_ eye contacts; she didn't even _know _that he existed. As an 'admirer', that is. Maybe not an admirer—the word sounded to strong and romantic—but he still respected her.

In a weird sort of way.

It was different, he felt, how, despite never talking to her, he knew so much about her. He knew her personality, her likes, her dislikes, how much she _hated _it when people thought lowly of her, that it was almost disconcerting.

He really did not know how he even got to know about her; maybe it was because she had the tendency to curse and talk to herself, a tick appearing comically, and how she hit a random piece of boulder without meaning to, as she would scream, _I'm soooo pissed!_

She wasn't girly- just rash, brutal and violent.

He scribbled away on the sheet of paper, signing and signing again, to requests and developments—the usual. It was 12'O clock in the morning, he noted, the grandfather clock's tuneless and orchestra-like tune thrumming loudly, reverberating with its useless and annoying noise.

His eyes shifted to look at his Fukutaicho, sleeping in an unruly manner on the couch, a drool slipping out of her open mouth, the Sake bottle lying aimlessly on the coffee table. Briefly, he thanked Kami that Matsumoto was not snoring—the sight on the sofa was disturbing enough.

The grandfather clock's ricocheting noise died down, much to his pleasure, and Toshiro heaved a sigh, and put the brush down. He looked at the blue brush, and then at the black ink matted perfectly on the hair. He stared at it for a few more minutes, yet staring at nothing in particular.

He gave a deep, heavy sigh, closed his eyes, opened them again and twisted his neck to look at the window. Darkness met his vision.

Usually, at 12'O clock, he would find himself staring at a raven haired girl, at fire, at water, at the moonlight, at something _unusual. _At something which made him content, something which made him happy. But now? He was staring at invidious papers which seemed to have taken a liking to him. Sometimes, the thin sheets felt like _fangirls. _He shuddered anxiously at the thought.

He wanted to see her again. He wanted to see her dance, at the ritual, at nature, at _something _which wasn't as inartificial as _this._

She was like nature.

Natural.

Maybe his thoughts inclined towards something which people would call 'romantic', but he knew better.

His eyes widened when he saw a flash, his heart started beating faster, and a smile of relief almost broke his lips.

Orange. Dim— _bright _orange and yellow.

In a flash, the room was devoid of the teal eyed Captain.

**.**

.

He ran as if his life depended on it. He ran faster than he had ever done so before. He brushed past the trees hurriedly and he couldn't help but wonder why he cared. He couldn't help but wonder why the dark haired Shinigami was capable of making him so excited, why he _yearned _to see her again.

Two minutes later, he found himself staring at the clearing, his breathing short, as he gasped for air. His teal eyes surveyed the surrounding, before widening in surprise. He would have gasped, but he forced himself not to, because he knew if he did such a silly action as that, the consequences wouldn't exactly be pretty.

She had her body immersed in the silvery water, and her hand moved about as a tiny speck of fire played on each of her fingers, creating tiny centaurs shooting arrows of water. There was a smile on her lips, a sad smile, as if staring at the fire gifted her with salvation. Her hair was open, cascading down, drowning in the water, smoothly, attractively.

His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn't help but wonder why. He didn't let this thought bother him much, but he could sure as hell feel heat crawling up his neck. He tried to ignore that too. In fact, he tried to ignore whatever symptoms he was being happily gifted with when he saw her.

His stared at her for a few seconds, before turning around almost immediately, hiding behind a tree. He leaned his back against the tree and scowled, for reasons he wasn't really sure.

This wasn't what he came for. He came to see her practice, to see her play and dance. He didn't come to see her taking a _bath _of all things. But…

But, even he had to admit, just _seeing _her, albeit not her face but only her back, he felt happy. He felt euphoria built up inside him. He felt relieved, because he knew that _she was there. _He knew that even if she didn't know him, even when she never really saw him, she would still be there. Whether for him, particularly, or not, he wasn't really sure.

It just made him happy.

He felt his lips curving upwards.

He didn't really know what happened next. Seconds later, he found himself harshly pinned against a tree, something sharp, something _scalding_ pressed against his throat, a warm breath blowing near his lips. A body was pressed against his, harshly, roughly, and he could feel the figure's reiatsu fluctuating in anger. He closed his eyes reflexively when he found himself rudely shoved to a tree. He wasn't expecting the assault.

The reiatsu was warm. Familiar. He liked it.

"Who the fuck are you and what do you want?" the voice was unusually calm and cold, but not too cold, just wary.

He opened his eyes.

Calm teal met furious dark obsidian.

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**Do you guys like it? I hope you do! :D**

**To those people who reviewed for 'Marry Me?': I LOVE you guys!**

**Reviews are always appreciated! :3**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for reviewing to my last chapter! Love you guys!**

**To-**

**forever122****: Thanks a lot for your review! I am happy to know you like the combination!****  
****Eto117****: Hehe, thanks for the review! Actually, in the beginning, I wanted to make this into a one-shot, but later changed my mind! :)****And, don't worry about the review! It was really eloquent and it made me very happy!****  
****MomoPeachFlower****: It's a multi-chapter fic! Don't worry! Don't be sad anymore! *frantic* ;)  
****Kaien Kimura****: Yup, I'm continuing! This chapter is the proof! :)  
****Guest: Thank you SO much! Glad to know you're a fan! XD! Thanks for complimenting my last fic too~!****  
****scottie994**** : Being the first person to review, this is all I can say to you *breathes in deeply* Will you marry me? :D! Thank you for your awesome review!  
**

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She pressed the blade against his throat, this time with more, unnecessary, force; he could feel the pain and hear the sickening hiss of burning flesh. Her face was inches apart from his, her hand pressed firmly beside his shoulder, on the bark of the tree, her left leg pressed tightly against his right one, preventing any means of escape.

Devoid of any answer, she pressed the sword further, and he could vaguely see the black swirls turning orange, as if responding to her rage, "Who are you?" she hissed, her obsidian eyes angry.

He did not answer, suddenly realizing their proximity.

It wasn't the correct thing to notice at a time like _this _when such a violent person like _her _had him practically straddled, with her face _so damn close. _This wasn't good. He wondered whether the bad part was the fact that she _actually _fancied that he was peeking at her of all things, or whether it was because her face was inches apart from his. Or whether it was because her body was tightly pressed against his, not intentionally, he knew, but still.

He kept his face impassive, feeling his yukata getting wet courtesy of the water dripping from her hair. He thanked God that his haori was securely hanging via a hook hanger—he preferred the white piece of material to be as dry as possible.

Her leg shifted forward, and her body pressed itself against his. He was pretty sure why—by now, people usually tried to escape, while in his case he _wasn't_(busy trying to not be distracted), which usually meant that the captured was going to break free by using some other means, a dirty one, some would say. There was one question which was still bugging him.

_How did she see me?_

Maybe it was his expression that was a dead giveaway, or maybe it was because this was what a normal person always thought when stuck in a situation, he mused, when she answered, narrowing her eyes, "I sensed your reiatsu, in case you are wondering. Now, who the hell are you and what do you want?"

He mentally slapped himself. Of _all _the ways she could have realized that he was hiding behind a tree, did it have to be in _this _elementary method? He was losing his touch. The thought disturbed him.

Devoid of another answer, she gritted her teeth in frustration, "I have got no idea who you are, but if you were _trying _to stare at me while I was taking a dip, I'm going to _kill _you." She brought the other hand's finger near the pressure point below the base of his ear—to make him unconscious; he was aware of the different pressure points in a human body.

He still did not answer, but, despite the current predicament, he couldn't help but smile, appreciating her violent and blunt nature. He did not understand why, and somehow he really did not care whether or not the answer came to him or not.

His teal eyes looked into hers again, this time with mere amusement. Her eyes widened.

It didn't take him long to realize that the widening of her eyes was due to the fact that she hadjust realized who he was.

_Shit. _Shit, because he knew he was in a pickle. A particularly nasty, rotting, jar of pickle.

Her dark eyes travelled upwards, stared incredulously at the shock of white hair, then back at his eyes.

"Wha…" Instinctively, her form slackened, and she let her defense slip, startled, her mouth parting silently.

The little mistake on her side was all it took for him to escape.

Milliseconds later, Karin found herself staring at the tree bark. She turned around, her eyes still incredulous and skeptical. She knew who he was, Toshiro was sure. She knew who he was, because they had met, they had _freaking _met.

Her voice had been quite and soft, not too soft, startled, but he had heard it.

"_Hitsugaya."_

No 'Taicho'. She did not know his rank. He thanked God. He again thanked God that he wasn't wearing his haori—that would have been a dead giveaway. He did not want to ruin his reputation. Not over such a measly thing. He craned his neck, glanced briefly at her, clad in nothing but a towel, Zanpakto in hand, hair dripping with water and clinging to her neck.

_Shit._

He ran, his cheeks brightening up. She had been close to his body, wearing nothing but a thin material to keep her body away from his. Of course, he, too, was wearing _something, _but, the thought slipped his mind. He felt queasy, not in a weird way, just… wary. Not in a serious manner, either.

It confused him even more.

He let the thought slide from his mind, staring, instead, forward. The lights of the Fifth Squad's Quarters were on, much to his pleasure. It was unlike him to like something bright, but somehow, he really didn't find himself minding.

What was the time?

He looked up, distractedly, at the walls, in hope of seeing a happily-ticking-away-clock. He saw nothing, just the blank white walls. He shut his eyes, and sighed.

He did not want their meeting to be like this. Don't get him wrong—he never really thought of talking to her, though sometimes the fleeting contemplation did pass his mind. It was nothing serious; he found enough satisfaction by just observing her, hiding in the dark like some sort of a stealth animal, prowling. He liked staring at her playing away, blissfully oblivious his presence; the presence of a person who found her amazing, like a different, magical, creature.

_Jigoku no ryū._

_Hell's Dragon._

He was aware that he wouldn't be able to see her anymore—not after what had just passed between them. It hurt for some unknown reason; or, maybe, this was how Yachiru reacted when the pink ball of energy was devoid of sweets. It made sense in a way; not a particularly nice way, but that was the only simile he found. Or was it a metaphor?

No, not sweets. Comparing her with sweets was an understatement.

But, then again, why did he care?

He paused, and his fast running legs came to an abrupt halt. It wasn't a forced halt, per se, just a sudden realization.

Why did he care, really? She wasn't related to him. In fact, she wasn't even his friend or a comrade for that matter. She just… existed. She was _present. _Nothing less nothing more.

His legs moved forward, slowly, reluctantly, not really sure what to do. It was unlike him to be _confused_ of all things, especially when he was referring to his own feelings. He was always aware of what he felt or thought, despite how fleeting it might be.

He let the thought slide again, easing it fluidly out of his mind, not bothering to crush such a stupid thought. He knew that he was simply distracting himself uselessly, and worrying himself for no reason. But, it was like him to get worried, despite how calm many claimed he was.

He did not sigh, but simply shrugged nonchalantly, preferring to walk forward, back to the comfort of his office.

He did exactly that; but, sometimes, he would find himself twisting backwards, waiting for a shock of raven hair.

But, then again, why_ did_ hecare?

**.**

.

"Shiro-chan, did you meet Karin-chan recently?"

Toshiro stiffened minutely, an action done so quickly, that even Momo did not seem to notice it. The red meat, wedged between a pair of chopsticks, was about to enter his mouth came to a forced halt, before returning back to its previous task—getting chewed by the white haired Captain.

"No." he answered, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He let his brows wrinkle in what he termed as annoyance, his forehead coated with nervous beads of sweat for some absurd reason. His partially closed teal eyes glanced briefly at his chocolate haired sister, before returning back to the bowl.

They were in a restaurant, a nostalgic one, too.

Kanimori, the name was.

When he had just joined the Academy, he and Momo used visit Kanimori quite often. Over the years, with both growing up, and after Granny's abrupt and tragic death, their visits to the wooden restaurant had decreased a lot.

They did try to go, whenever possible.

Momo's eyes narrowed in suspicion, Toshiro's behavior not satisfying her. She shrugged, reprimanding herself, that, perhaps, she was getting paranoid.

"Oh." She said, biting onto the onigiri, "She was looking for you."

Toshiro's form visibly stiffened, and Momo noticed it. Later, she termed it as her 'imagination'—her brother had no reason to lie to her.

"Oh?" Toshiro asked, nervousness present in his voice. He tried to gulp down the nervousness, reminding himself that he had no reason to be nervous. Sure, he had practically seen her naked, but that didn't really matter, "What did she say?"

"I don't quite remember." Momo answered, tilting her head to one side, thoughtful. She brought a finger near her chin, and Toshiro's eyes travelled to the food stuck to right side of her lip. Toshiro pointed toward the area beside his lip, informing Momo. Momo looked quizzically at him, realized his message and rubbed the grain off her face.

"Something about, 'your bastard of a brother was staring at me'."

Toshiro's form stiffened again, and this time Momo knew that she was not imagining it. Her eyes did not brighten, but she looked monotonously at him, "Shiro-chan, what did you do?"

The Tenth Squad's Captain looked at Hinamori, trying to mask an indifferent look, "Nothing." He said, his voice final, leaving no room for an argument.

Maybe it was because of the sternness in his voice, or maybe the nonchalance, but, whatever the reason, Momo believed his words the next moment.

**.**

.

That day, Toshiro swore to himself that he would never pass by the Eleventh Division.

Ever.

**.**

.

Toshiro knew for a fact that he was overreacting. He knew that not seeing Karin anymore meant that he was giving up—or that he was simply embarrassed. Three-fifths of his mind believed in the latter, while the rest forced itself to believe in the former.

He sighed and sat down, tired, resting his elbows on the table.

Matsumoto poked her head out of the magazine she was reading to look at the disconcerted Tenth Squad's Captain. His eyes gave a reminiscing look, something which made her anxious about his mental state, but she tried not being bothered by it, knowing that whatever the reason for her Captain's look was something which was bugging him a lot.

"Taicho," she ventured, stressing, whiningly, "is everything alright?"

Broken from his reverie, Toshiro started, before calming down. What was up with people and knowing his emotions?

It was disturbing because he was a man who preferred keeping things to himself.

He looked at Matsumoto, as if he had just noticed her. Which, in his case, was true. Her light blue eyes were looking at him, concerned, like a mother did when looking at her sick child. Toshiro paused.

'_Mother? Why am I comparing everyone?'_

"Toaicho?" Matsumoto ventured again, a slight frown taking up her gregarious features. She flicked a strand of strawberry blonde hair dangling in front of her face, and flipped a glossy page of the magazine, "You alright?"

"Ah." He replied, and Matsumoto knew, from that single syllable, that Toshiro had replied as a positive.

That, however, even she could say, was not the case. Toshiro, for her, was like a child figure—and, with a soft click of her fingers, she could tell what the snow haired captain was thinking.

Toshiro wasn't in a good mood; he had been seeing a lot of Karin recently. With Momo. When he had asked Hinamori why Karin was sticking to her, she had looked quizzically at him, as if to say, _You noticed it now?_

Okay, maybe he hadn't been _that _attentive in the past two and a half month, what with Karin occupying his mind every fraction of a second. He used to, previously, before meeting Karin face-to-face in that embarrassing manner. Before, he would simple wave at Hinamori, hastily, before excusing himself with a furtive, _Ja._

He would find himself in a reverie; too excited to meet her, see her there, performing the unknown custom. It had been a routine for him, and currently it hurt a lot, in a weird, soft sort of way, to see her _there _and knowing that he wouldn't be able to _**see her**__. _

He groaned in frustration, and dropped his face on his palm.

"Are you sure?" Matsumoto asked again, placing the magazine on the coffee table, and leaning forward worriedly.

"Hai." He replied, mechanically.

There was an abruptness in his voice, making Matsumoto suspicious. Her light blue eyes slid into worried slits, and she looked at him, slightly bemused. It was mainly a wild conjecture on her part, but she piped, her voice unusually curious, "Is it a girl?"

"No." Toshiro all but snapped; Matsumoto had expected him to blush. She looked contemplatively at him, her mind wheeling with possibilities and fantasies. Toshiro's abrupt disappearances, during the nights, had left her bewildered. And then, suddenly, instead of going wherever it was that he went, he was _here._ He, on the other hand, thought, she was sure, that she hadn't noticed his disappearances.

Matsumoto rolled her eyes in incredulity.

What was he, ten?

"Are you sure?"

"Hn."

Now Matsumoto was more worried—for reasons she wasn't sure of, but her women's intuition deemed her to be worried.

"Okay." She replied, apprehensively.

On Toshiro's side, he busied himself by being bemused; how did Rangiku know that it was a _girl? _Granted, it was not the way she thought the whole ordeal was, but still.

"You are not in love, are you?"

Toshiro facepalmed.

**.**

.

It was after the incident with Karin and him that, every night, he would find himself tossing and turning in bed, unable to go to sleep.

**.**

.

After three days of not sleeping, staring dully out of the window, and resisting the urge to go out and see _her _again, Toshiro Hitsugaya found himself in the middle of a crowd, waiting idly for Hinamori and staring distractedly at a raven head. Her back was turned against his, and she was a few metres away from him, talking amiably to a guy.

His whole form paused, as if waiting for sudden cramps to occur.

It was her. No doubt about it. He had seen her back, her hair, her eyes, her face, _her, _thousands of time to know that the person in front was Karin.

'No.' he tried to assure himself, 'It's not her. I am imagining things.'

If he were imagining things, a part of him spoke up, why was he staring at her?

He felt apprehension settle at the pit of his stomach. He was being paranoid. He was overreacting. He was not acting like himself.

He hated that.

He ordered his eyes to close, tried to force his eyelids to cover his pupil, telling them that the person in front wasn't Karin. At that moment he completely forgot that telling his eyes stuff wasn't going to help him in anyway; telling his brain, on the other hand, would.

He crossed his arms, adjusted his haori, his eyes lingering on her back, intending to walk. Towards her, or away from her, he wasn't really sure because his mind still hadn't comprehended the seemingly menial task. He took in a deep breath.

He walked forward.

His gaze was still on her.

He moved in with the crowd, a few anxious students giving him glances, ushering the others, bowing at his direction, the girls turning a pretty pink. It was all the same; he was used to it. He didn't regard their stares, just looked forward, at her.

It was as if his eyes could send darts made up of ice; she shuddered and turned around, her brow wrinkled in worry.

In the eyes of the students, the Captain of the Tenth Division had just disappeared, leaving nothing in his wake.

Whereas, in reality, he had actually dove into a nearby bush.

**.**

.

He didn't know when he had blacked out, but when he woke up, he found himself staring at the blue sky. He felt dazed, and he blinked, once, twice, to get rid of the sleep. He figured that he was tired, or maybe he wasn't, he didn't know. He blearily shifted his body and got up, using his hands to support his body.

His legs were stuffed into a bush.

He stared at the green leaves, for what felt like an eternity, not really sure what to do.

'_Huh.' _

His mind was unusually blank, the effects of slumber still present.

"Taicho?"

He craned his neck, to stare at the owner of the voice, her bright blue eyes staring at him with worry, concern and surprise. He wasn't really sure how the hell she had actually found him _here _of all places, with his legs stuffed into a bush, and he tried to ignore the nagging question, fearing her laugh and the well-meant humiliation.

"Matsumoto." He greeted.

"Taicho, what are you doing here?"

Toshiro regarded the question. What should he say? That he was scared of seeing a girl, which was why he was busy hiding? No, ho preferred being dead than admitting that.

"I was searching for a cat," he replied nonchalantly. He got up, staggering a bit. Brushing the leaves and twigs from his uniform, and then adjusting the scarf, he looked at the strawberry haired woman.

"A cat?" she inquired. The tone in her voice was that of mock belief—not that he blamed her. His excuse was overly lame.

"Yes."

"Ah." She said and turned around, bobbing her head, as if accepting the excuse. Toshiro blinked in surprise.

'_That's it?' _

"Taicho? Are you coming?"

Broken from his confusion, he nodded his head, and stepped beside her.

Silence followed.

"So…" Rangiku said conversationally, "Who's the girl?"

"Matsumoto!" he growled.

**.**

.

The buzz of the restaurant was, as usual, present. People laughed and smiled with joy and mirth, ordering Sake, food and more food. Their laughs echoed like bubbles, the giggles of drunken Shinigamis, women and men, waving noisily like the harsh waves of the sea.

Shindei, at night, was an annoying place to eat at. Not that Toshiro hated the place in general—it wasn't too garrulous —but, the restaurant became too noisy for his liking. He had to pretend to be an extrovert, meeting with people, having girls fawn over him, having Matsumoto _drag _him to this Godforsaken place; the whole ordeal tired him.

"Taicho!" Matsumoto slurred, holding him by his hand and pulling him towards her. Toshiro tried to ignore how her breasts pressed itself against his head, staring forward, instead, with a tick on his right temple.

"What?" he asked, distractedly, his eyes shifting, waiting for Hinamori to appear. If there was one person he could tolerate whilst said person being drunk, it was definitely Hinamori. Sure, Hinamori usually became overly rude due to the effects of alcohol, dancing about like crazy (joined by Matsumoto), but Toshiro could still handle her.

"You are so cute!" she declared, gulping onto a bottle of sake and giggling madly.

"Ah." He replied, her simple sentence hurting his man pride.

His fukutaicho wouldn't have, he mused, lived to see another day if she ever were to call him 'cute', when being somber.

In front of him, sitting, were Renji and Hisagi, Matsumoto's usual drinking buddies. Hisagi had passed out fifteen minutes ago, courtesy of a drinking competition he had been subjected to, competing Matsumoto. Renji, on the other hand, was grinning like a half witted idiot, teeth gleaming, as he busied himself by saying crap Toshiro did not bother listening to.

Toshiro kept his gaze fixed on the door, urging, with his eyes, for the door to open, waiting for a brunette to appear.

And appear, she did.

With Karin.

His mind went off like a switch, and he stared at the raven haired, his mouth wide. _Shit. _He planned on escaping, but chucked the idea out immediately; Matsumoto's grip on him was rather tight. He shrunk uncharacteristically, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible.

"Hinamori-kun!"

"Rangiku-san!"

_Shit._

Fate was a bitch.

He heard meek footsteps approaching their table, accompanied by more daring shuffles.

"Who might she be?"

An inquiring silence, followed by movements.

"I'm Karin." he heard her distinct voice, "Nice to meet you."

"Matsumoto Rangiku." His fukutaicho slurred happily.

"I didn't tell you about her?" Hinamori.

"No." Rangiku.

"Seriously?! She defeated _all _the members—"

"Momo!"

"Ah. Gomen, gomen."

Toshiro heard the whole conversation with an attentive ear, shrinking further, hoping to blend with the background of the restaurant. That didn't happen, however.

He could feel her gaze on him, the unwavering look that he had come to admire. He didn't raise his head to meet her face, too apprehensive to do such. Briefly, he thanked God _again _that he wasn't wearing his haori—a public place like this, where ranks were of no importance, didn't seem it worthy for such a formal attire, anyway.

"Ah, Karin!" Hinamori said cheerfully, taking a seat beside Renji, who greeted her by grinning amiably at her direction, "You wanted to talk to Toshiro, right?" he could feel her gesturing towards his direction.

He cursed.

It was a confirmed fact—Fate wasn't a bitch. It was a BITCH.

"Oh?" he didn't miss the anger which surfaced in her voice.

He shrunk further, swallowing his pride. Out of _all _the places they could have met in, did it _have _to be in a public place? With Matsumoto? With Hinamori? With EVERY Godforsaken person?!

Things happened pretty quickly.

Milliseconds later, he found his face close to female's, whose eyes burned furiously, the grudge she held against him burgeoning. He heard the clattering of a few dishes; her pull was really abrupt and belligerent.

His face was unusually calm and stoic, as teal eyes stared at black ones, his heart rate rising (because of the current situation or because of their proximity, he wasn't really sure).

He heard audible gasps erupting from the people present, and whispers broke out, their hushes similar to that when in a church.

"What do you want?" even to him, his voice was as calm as a sleeping animal, and reflexively, a smirk broke his lips.

His unconscious smirk seemed to anger her further, and she seethed, her teeth clenched in annoyance:

"You. Me. Fight. _Now."_

**;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;**

**So, what do you think? Liked it? Hated it? Meh?**

**If there were any grammatical errors, please tell me! :D**

**Reviews are always appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**The people who reviewed the chapter prior to this one—you guys are AWESOME! ImeanyouguysarelikeAMAZINGLYAMAZING! AJHGjdgjagd!  
I am so glad that people are reading this! This story has 21 follows and 12 reviews! I am so happy!  
And scottie994: I am so glad that you are planning to draw a manga panel for the first part! You are an amazing writer!  
Check out a fic called 'Modern Romance' by her! It's amazing!**

**:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :**

If he wasn't mesmerized by her eyes and if he wasn't busy wondering how perfectly anger suited her, he was sure he would have laughed. It was with a lot of self control and restraint that he made himself look at her in nonchalance, one eyebrow raised up in a silent question.

Her eyes were still burning.

It was a funny how such a small and tiny thing was capable of making her so angry. Maybe it wasn't a small, tiny thing, he mused, because if it were he wouldn't _be _in this position in the first place.

"Come again?" he asked.

Her grip around the collar of his yukata tightened till her knuckles turned white with half held control and immeasurable rage . He could see that she preferred lashing out currently than to keeping her emotions in check, "You and me. A battle. _Now."_

He could not see Matsumoto, who had happily let go of him when Karin had attacked him, but he was damn sure that her eyes were as wide as a saucer. It was always a mystery to him how his Lieutenant was capable of turning into a drunkard one moment and then into a somber the next.

"Taicho….?"

Her gasp wasn't particularly audible, but Toshiro was sure that the strawberry blonde woman had indeed gasped.

"Karin!" surprisingly, the one to break the hushed silence— with people staring wide-eyed at the bemusing scene— was Renji, "What the _hell _are you doing!?"

Karin.

No suffix.

Informal.

Toshiro idly wondered how the two knew each other.

"Shut up!" Karin retorted, her scalding tone directed towards Renji, who was standing up, his eyes staring incredulously at the raven head.

"But, Karin, you don't know who he is—"

It took all but a second for Toshiro to realize that she _really _didn't know who he was. Okay, the realization had hit him the first time they met, but _how could she not know?_ He was a Captain. Captains and their Lieutenants were _bound _to be known by Shinigamis. It was a basic fact.

That, and during their academic days, Captains frequently visited the students to know how they were progressing.

Her not knowing him struck him odd.

"This is between me and him, Renji!" she retorted, her anger directed towards both him and Renji, "This bastard was _staring _at me when I was—"

Realizing the dangerous incidents her words would invariably lead to, he calmly put a gentle hand, yet a rough one, on her shoulder.

In fraction of a second, Matsumoto, Renji and the other occupants of the room found Shindei devoid of a snowy Captain and a furious raven head.

All Matsumoto could do was stare, not really sure how to react.

**.**

.

He found it overly ironic how his legs brought him to the same place where she suspected that he was staring at her while she was taking a dip. It was ironic because, even when she seemed pretty hell bent on killing him, her not being in _that _place in particular felt aberrant. And this feeling, he suspected, was the reason for him bringing her there.

It was ironic because he wanted to pacify her _somehow _and this place was the last place he could do that because the scenery only served as a reminder.

He calmly let go of her, and jumped a few paces back.

Karin's eyes hardened with surprise when she realized that he actually had the _nerve _of bringing her to her _training ground_, where he had been, previously, _peaking _at her.

That surprise was soon replaced by anger, and she hissed, clutching her zanpaktou by it's hilt.

She saw him looking quizzically at her, arms crossed around his chest in nonchalance. His teal eyes, though attractive, did nothing to make her heart beat faster or make her face heat up, like the way it did to the others. She glared at him, and asked, "What do you have to say about it, huh?"

Toshiro looked impassively at her. Out of all the questions.

What did he want to say? That he was sorry. That he didn't mean to see her. That he had hidden himself behind a tree _because _she was taking a bath, and not because he wanted to stare at her naked form or anything. He knew that the words wouldn't affect her in anyway—she seemed to be too blinded by anger to want to accept an explanation.

Even if he did decide to say the above-mentioned stuff, he wouldn't be able to complete it, because, the next moment, he found himself staring at furious obsidian, her face a tad bit too close to his, raven hair flowing wildly with the sudden movement.

It took him less that a second to let his hands hold Hyourinmaru by the hilt to evade her sudden offence with a swift movement. He flew back, and the moment his toe touched the ground, she was onto him again and their blades clanked loudly with each other.

She had a lot of strength, he noted dully,keeping her at bay using only one hand. She, too, was holding her zanpaktou with only one hand, the black swirls glowing orange.

If she, just a normal Shinigami from the unruly and pretty much untrained Eleventh Division, where most of the people acted irrationally, was capable of holding him for this long, he had no doubt that she was impressive.

When Toshiro found his feet digging into the ground, courtesy of the sheer force she was using, he cursed under his breath, reprimanding himself for allowing his mind to wander aimlessly. Without a second thought, he bent his knees, to allow a minute gap to form between her zanpaktou and his, and shunpoed, only to reappear behind her.

She stumbled forward, but caught herself before she could fall on the ground. Furiously wheeling around to look at the Captain, her gaze still belligerent, he found it amusing to see her like that.

The thought easily left his mind, when she bombarded him with another ruthless attack, using two hands to double the force. Her strength was impressive, he felt, but it was nothing compared to his. He didn't bother using his left hand to fight back, but instead, stuck two fingers out, and brought it near his lips.

"Sai (_Restraint)!_" he said silently, and her mouth parted, realizing what he was intending to do.

It was a late reaction from her side, because seconds later, she found her arms pinned behind her back in a painful hold. She didn't let out a scream of frustration, but she sure felt like doing that when his lips curved up as a reflex action, satisfied to see his 'enemy' struggling.

He jumped back and landed on his feet.

He felt a bit guilty doing whatever he had just done to her, but he tried to subdue the increasing guilt. He comforted himself by adding that _she _was the one who had started attacking him when he had done nothing wrong. He knew he had to apologize to her somehow and vaguely he wondered how he was going to do that—he wasn't particularly articulate with apologies. Apologizing to Hinamori was an easy task- the brown haired Shinigami was somewhat docile and the sort who easily forgave people. Karin, however, he was sure, did not.

He was aware, though, that the tomboy never really held grudges.

"Ōkasen_ (Yellow Fire Flash)_!"

Though the sudden burst of yellow energy surprised him immensely, he easily evaded the Hado by nimbly stepping around. The energy, however, grazed past his arm and he hissed in pain and surprise, feeling his skin burning, mouth curving down distastefully. He fell on his knees and stared at the raven head.

She was standing, her lips wide and happy, and a grin taking over her features. She looked smugly at him, as if telling him that if he had thought that she was _weak_ of all things, he would have to change his mind as soon as possible.

Toshiro never even thought her to be weak, so all he did was gaze at her, thoroughly impressed. He was impressed because she was capable of hurting him. He was impressed because she was capable of breaking free of the Bakudo he had placed on her.

He was impressed of because she was capable of making him like her so much, even when all he did was to stare at her from far off.

He attacked her.

She wasn't unaware of his sudden attrition. With a swift movement, she unsheathed her sword (which she had previously sheathed in order to cast the Hado), and their zanpaktous met. A huge clang ensued as she pressed forward, the amusement replaced by petulance.

He didn't want to hurt her in anyway, so he tried to keep his offence at a minimum. He knew that she was pretty nimble with her footings, and stealth always seemed to be her companion. Even though he felt he was definitely faster than her, he didn't want to be sure of it.

With an expertise slide of her sword, she sent him flying back, his eyes widening in surprise. He let that emotion slide, and quickly leaped forward as soon as his feet came in contact with the ground, only to have himself facing her again, face millimeters away from his. That didn't particularly disturb him in anyway, as he easily evaded a jab from the hilt of her sword, which was aimed to his abdomen.

'_She doesn't want to hurt me, huh?'_

After all, if she _did _want to murder him, she definitely wouldn't have tried to jab him with the hilt of her zanpaktou. Granted that a furious offence from her side with the help of a blunt instrument was bound to hurt anyone, but it still wasn't capable of killing. Or slicing.

He rolled past her shoulders, midair, and, keeping a wary stance, stood, zanpaktou in hand. She stumbled distractedly, and blinked twice, surprised to meet nothing but air. Realizing her mistake, she wheeled around, ready to attack again. She did, aiming at his head, but he swiftly blocked it, raising his zanpaktou to deflect it.

A look came over her face, not of anger, but something akin to respect. Toshiro knew that it _was _respect—he had seen that look on many Shinigamis.

His strength easily overcame hers, and he pressed forward, pinning her. Her left knee buckled minutely, and he pressed forward, till her left knee hit the ground. She gritted her teeth in frustration, and she tried to retaliate by straining her arm muscles. His sheer strength completely overtook hers.

And then she, without a warning, summoned fire. The whole sword turned an orange-ish yellow, like molten metal. A sudden hiss ensued as his sword melted at the point of contact. Toshiro gaped at her in disbelief, his mouth parting silently in awe. He didn't allow the awe to settle in his face for long, hiding it with a slight upward curve of his lips, jumping backwards. He could hear the unmistakable sizzle coming from Hyourinmaru, after which the melted edge covered itself with ice.

She saw the ice helping his zanpaktou, and her fury turned to something akin to amazement. She attacked him again, almost immediately, while he deflected it. To keep her sword from melting his, he summoned ice continuously at the point of contact.

"You are pretty good," she murmured absentmindedly, knowing that she was going to lose. Women's intuition, she figured, though previously she never believed in such things. She didn't let the thought bother her, as she leaped back, the sudden push from his end being the reason for her doing so.

Meanwhile, Toshiro really did not want to hurt her. She wasn't an enemy, he reminded himself, but even he knew that that wasn't the sole reason for his reluctance. She needed a distraction, which he was sure wasn't going to work well with her—her fast reactions hardly permitted that. Double distraction, he felt, would help.

Wordlessly, he summoned ice; and she, fire. Thrusting two fingers out, almost immediately a pole of ice appeared over her. She summoned fire in order to melt it, and did so easily, only to be bombarded by sheets of ice from behind.

'_That was a distraction!' _She thought furiously, mentally slapping herself. She did not let the mistake bother her in anyway, as she turned around. Fire shot out of her palm again, melting the sheets of ice.

And then, hoping that she would duck his sudden attrition towards her _somehow_, he attacked her with his zanpaktou.

It happened in a fraction of a second, the surprise which took over him acting as a dangerous distraction. His sword sliced through her flesh, like a knife passing through butter, and he heard the distinct splash of blood.

_Shit._

He jumped back, almost reflexively, Hyourinmaru in hand.

_Shit._

This wasn't supposed to happen! He didn't _mean _to hurt her; he never even _dreamt_ of it! He almost wanted to apologize, feeling guilty as he stared uncomfortably at the bloody figure; her hair disheveled, clutching onto her cut shoulder. Her breath was ragged and heavy, taking in air with difficulty.

"Shit," she mumbled, her attention diverted. Sure, this was the first time battling with him; she could still gather that he was strong. He was too strong for her to fathom, and, for some absurd reason, the anger she had felt towards him dissipated like it never existed in the first place. Something akin to respect took over her, surprising her over the sudden change of emotions.

"Out of _all _the ways…" the usual annoyance took over her voice again, stifling the urge to scream at herself.

She gritted her teeth in frustration and awe, wondering what she was supposed to do now. There was something about him, something deep and awkward and mysterious and _strong _that she had no idea whether to envy him or not. Her ragged breath did little to help her cloudy mind.

And then, suddenly, she smiled.

Toshiro, who, up till now, had been feeling guilty and had been having a serious argument with himself whether to or not to help and/or apologize her in anyway, noticed the smile. Her lips were stretched to form a weary smile, eyes looking at him with acceptance.

And then, as surprising as the smile was, she fell on her knees and bowed her head in respect

"Please!" she said abruptly.

Toshiro blinked in surprise, his form relaxing. He would have asked her why she was bowing to him, but was cut off almost immediately.

The sudden jerk made her hair escape the band's hold and her dark tresses fell out loosely, covering her eyes as she slapped her palms on the ground, in submission, "Please help me train!"

It took a few seconds for the Captain to realize what her words meant.

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**I hope you like this chapter! Please tell me if anyone is a bit OOC, and if there are any grammatical errors. I had to type this down overly fast—I have an exam this Friday.**

**Review, please! It means the world to me~! :D**


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